


Apologies and Hurts

by Aly_H



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Clan Lavellan - Freeform, Family Drama, Family Feels, Gen, Grief/Mourning, One-Shot, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Post-Blight, The Blight (Dragon Age), other people's ocs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-09-07 04:49:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16847449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aly_H/pseuds/Aly_H
Summary: Immediately after the Blight has ended in Ferelden and word of Taralyn’s father’s death reaches them. Adair Lavellan goes looking for Taralyn after another argument caused by the other boy's grieving.





	Apologies and Hurts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hoehoehoelt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hoehoehoelt/gifts).



> Adair belongs to hoehoehoelt.

The grass is a well trampled circle in the clearing. It’s a little farther off from the Clan’s camp than they’re usually permitted to wander – far enough to avoid the more frequent wanderings by the hunters.

Not that anyone has wanted to spend much time with Taralyn in the last two weeks.

Grief had made the sharp edges to his temper even sharper. It was no longer just Hal he lashed out at but anyone who had managed to irritate him. Which was most everyone – he’d even shouted at Siona, and while she’d gotten an apology following it Adair had still had to hold the youngest of the trio of siblings while she cried over it.

Adair felt sharply for the three. And for the others in the Clan suffering similarly. Most of the warriors and hunters who had answered the summons to face the Blight in Ferelden, to fulfill the Dalish’s pledge to the Wardens, had returned safely. Ethelan had not but he was not the only one.

Adair had never cared much for the hard-edged warrior: Ethelan Lavellan was a stern man whose intimidating presence in the clan had always been a little nerve-wracking for the young adoptee. Particularly when his own magic developed and Adair found himself compared to the twins – and a threat to their place within the Clan whenever someone remembered the three mages rule.

Haleir had always cast a soft smile and a wink when Ethelan had seen fit to scold Adair before causing some magical accident that drew all the attention to himself.

The brunette had always been the one receiving the brunt of the criticisms, both from his father and Taralyn. Adair wasn’t sure _why_ – Hal wasn’t bad, he was kind and always had a laugh. Did it matter he didn’t like sitting still studying the magic books the Keeper had and would rather be running and playing with those apprentices to the hunters?

Adair let out a deep breath.

Earlier he’d laid into Taralyn – called him an ass and told him why and to back off. The moment he’d calmed down he felt guilty about it, but it’d taken longer to track the other mage down.

Right now he lay motionless in the meadow, an arm thrown up over his face to block the sun from his eyes as he rested. The rise and fall of his chest steady. Tara had stripped off his shirt when he’d gotten too sweaty for it to be comfortable – the garment in a pile with his satchel and staff.

A wooden sword lay a few inches from the fingertips of the arm not over his face. And explained why the grass of the meadow looked as if it had seen battle. Tara had come out there to work out pent up energies and frustration – pushing himself to his limit with the weapon that being the First left little time to practice with.

He hesitated – maybe it wasn’t his place to come here and talk to the older apprentice but…

“Did you need something?” Taralyn spoke without moving his arm.

“…just...to talk.”

The red head moved, shifting to sit up, and cross his legs. Green eyes studying him with the quiet curiosity that Adair thought of as Tara’s true face. Taralyn was sometimes his father’s son – all sharp edges and harsh self-discipline and _anger_ \- but the Tara that Adair thought of as admirable was more a scholar than anything, someone who wanted to understand how everything fit together.

He just wished that Tara let himself be this quieter person more often. His family didn’t need another warrior to keep them safe.

Still under that gaze Adair found himself picking at the fabric of his sleeve, refusing to list his gold eyes to meet it. It was more difficult to start than he’d thought it would be.

“ImsorryIyelledatyouearlierIknowyoureupsetandwhyanditsnotfairbutyoumadehercryand-” the words tumbled out quickly all at once and in Trade. The furrowed auburn brows and slight frown made his heart stop for a moment before he realized that Tara’s lips were moving silently over sounds.

He’d not understood what Adair was trying to say. The older boy preferred to use elven with the Clan, switching into Trade only when it was more beneficial for the people he was talking to. They had a few adoptees from cities at this point or Dalish from clans with slightly different dialects.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” he tried again.

“You shouldn’t be,” Tara shook his head. “I needed someone to do it. I _have_ been an ass, and everything else…that’s no excuse for acting that way. I’m sorry that you were the one who had that fall on his shoulders, Adair. I’ll try to do better in the future.”

Adair blinked widely – he hadn’t expected that. He’d been waiting for Tara to be mad at him when reminded of earlier instead he’d gotten an apology…

“Thank you for helping Siona now too…Hal and I…” a faint grimace crossed the red head’s face, some unpleasant thought, “With everything that’s happening we should be paying her more mind than we have been.”

“You should be easier on yourself too,” Adair frowned. “It’s not your fault.”

Tara sighed softly, getting to his feet, and plucking up his shirt from the grass and the wooden practice blade as well. He wasn’t meeting the younger mage’s eyes as he spoke to the ground: “I’ll keep what family I have left safe, Adair. I promise you that.”

He frowned, not sure how to answer that – but by the time he could have thought of anything Taralyn’s back was already retreating down the path towards camp, pulling his shirt back over his head. His pace deliberate enough to make it clear he was ending the conversation but also so Adair could catch up and walk with him if he wanted to.

 


End file.
